Tomorrow
by Acerbitas
Summary: Every day, Tohma promises he'll come back tomorrow. He knows Eiri needs those promises. For Raserei Hojo.


**For Raserei Hojo's birthday! I really hope you like it, and I'm sorry it's so late! **

**Tomorrow**

"Are you listening to me, Eiri?" Tohma set the cup of water down beside the withered plant. Behind his calm exterior seethed a quiet discomfort, a grumpy disposition. Talking to Eiri was like talking to a cat. He may yowl back, but there is no doubt he neither understands nor cares what is being said.

Eiri was sprawled on the couch, rubbing his naked foot fiercely against the floor in an attempt to remove an itch. "No," he told his unwelcome guest. "I'm not. I'm reading the paper." Newspapers were piled on top of him, once and awhile a sheet or two sliding to the ground. Wednesday's sports lay in company with Sunday's world news, and Eiri's newspaper bags stood by the door, empty. He ripped a piece out of the entertainment section before cutting smoothly around the edges, ignoring the scraps as they curled and settled on his stomach.

"You need to get out. I'm worried about you," Tohma repeated, raising his demure voice in an attempt to gain Eiri's attention. "Do something productive, like write. Or even take a walk, Eiri-kun."

"I like collecting important news," Eiri muttered as he chopped a rival author's head off. "It's quite fascinating." The scissors made sharp clacking noises as he mauled thin air.

Tohma drifted to Eiri's side, carefully sidestepping the debris that lay scattered all over the floor. "You never read the news before. You never watched it on the television."

"So? I'm allowed to have new habits." Eiri swung one leg over the other, crushing some loose papers underneath. "What've you got against being an informed citizen?" He watched his toes wiggle for an unhealthy amount of time.

"He's dead." Tohma knew that only a statement of the obvious could stir Eiri into action. He wasn't quite sure if the action would be violent, or life-threatening, but anything would be better than the grumpy recluse Eiri had become.

The scissors tore a vicious tear through the weather report, and Tohma watched Eiri's shaking fingers.

"So?" His charge stood up abruptly, paper tumbling from him like an array of autumn leaves. Kicking several moldy pizza boxes out of his way, he stomped into the kitchen. "I don't care. I'm better off." A brief silence. "Aww, fuck! Goddamn beer's all stuck to the floor!"

"Eiri-kun, there is stuff all over the floor. All over your house." Tohma scanned the carnage of a once spotless living room.

"My house can be as messy as I want it to be." The childishness of this statement made Tohma wince.

"You can't keep living like this," Tohma chided as Eiri flopped back onto the couch, three beer bottles clutched like baby Jesus in his arms. "This is detrimental to your health."

A cigarette burst into flame, and Eiri sucked the fumes in, free fingers dancing like a mad spider down his stomach. "Since when have I given a shit about my health?" The smoke rose into the air, combining with the musty scent that came from ancient food and sweat.

"There is a difference between not caring and intentionally damaging yourself."

The beer bottle popped open, and the cap flew intentionally in Tohma's direction. "You're such an old nosy grandmother." There was a hint of resentment in the writer's tone. "Always wandering around my house, taking away my food and putting things in random places." Eiri ignored the clothes draped over his lamp. "My freaking Devil Dog's. Damnit Tohma! When did you start denying me chocolate? Where's the cake you always used to bring me?" A huff of indignation blew more smoke into the already musty room. The beer bottle clunked onto the coffee table.

"When you started getting a gut. I'm opening the window. The air." He calmly pressed his fingers in the slots and released the shutters.

"Like hell you're opening the window!" Eiri growled, but didn't bother to get up

"There, it's open!" Tohma offered his irritated friend a killer smile. "Quite a lot better, eh?"

"No." The familiar sound of scissors began again, eerily snapping inside Tohma's head. "Why don't you just go fuck off, huh?" Not even a pause in the relentless mutilation.

"…Fucking…kid died in a car accident." Eiri paused, eyes wandering blindly over his wrecked living room. They went wildly back and forth, panicked. "No, that shouldn't happen." It was a soft, calm denial. Things aren't supposed to happen, so they never happen.

Or they aren't supposed to happen to him. Tohma knew that the storm was coming, and drew his hand over his shoulder in a reflexive protective action.

A pause. "People need to be more careful when they're driving! Fucking idiots—goddamnit!" Eiri flung the newspapers off of himself, sweeping his hand over the table and sending his beer crashing across the floor. "Why are people so stupid, Tohma? Why? Why do you think people are so stupid?" He stood up, fists balled in rage.

"We're all the same, Eiri," Tohma whispered, fingernails digging into his warm feather boa. "We all make mistakes, and we all live to regret them." He calmly looked into the younger man's eyes, accepting and knowing everything that lurked behind them.

Eiri opened his mouth to yell but instead their tension tumbled into an uncomfortable silence. Easing around the writer, Tohma calmly rescued as much as he could from the sticky beer.

"I need some stain remover."

Eiri just stood there, staring at the carnage like it wasn't his own.

"I need some stain remover," Tohma repeated dully.

Eiri wandered over to his unused arm chair and flopped down, staring into the distance. His eyes almost had the look of an old, bewildered widow. "What's going on?" he asked, a bit of fear in his tone.

"I'll get it."

The chair rocked. Eiri's fingers pressed into the soft upholstery. Newspaper after newspaper fell into the trash can.

Finally, Tohma rose, smiling a soft smile, a real smile. It was real, because it was sad. "I have to go home now."

"Come back tomorrow." There was a pleading tone in his friend's voice. "Say you'll come back tomorrow."

"Okay. I'll come back tomorrow. Get some sleep."

The chair's creaking followed Tohma into the hallway. His fingers left the knob and he managed a shaky sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets before setting off into the night.

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It's been a long time since I wrote Gravitation, so I hope that everything was alright, and that you enjoyed it!


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